


You are a mountain

by AeeDee



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Drabble, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wally is certain - very - that he's not good enough. But he's often wrong about this kind of thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are a mountain

**Author's Note:**

> ..because I still feel nostalgic for the YJ-verse.

He didn’t know what it meant to love somebody. Not really.

He knew it by the sensations; the way they amplified over time. A gradual tightening of the stomach he couldn’t shake, a rise in the temperature of his skin and a shallowness of breath and an ache he couldn’t ease. It started in his fingers, in his hands, in his toes. In his knees when he tried to stand beside him, because he was so tall and mighty and he felt so

Small beside him, even though he knew that wasn’t the truth.

Why?

Because you are you, and I am 

Me; I am small and slightly significant at best and you are a mountain.

He think he’s important in fleeting moments. Knows his fragile confidence isn’t something anyone can fix, isn’t certain he’d want him to try. Because when you start to rebuild something broken you have to see all of the cracks first.

And he’s afraid that if he touches him – touches him with those strong hands – he’ll crumble.

-

“Hey,” and he’s nudged in the side.

“Yeah,” it’s a question and he’s blinking himself awake and looking around. The room fell into stillness and the warm sunlight is comforting, like a soft embrace as he fights the urge to nod off again. Scratches his sleeve and remembers what day it is, what _afternoon_ it must be, why he’s still in his civilian clothes. 

It’s a Saturday, so he invited the team over to play videogames or something, but he was exhausted from staying up all night and dozed off right here on his bed, which must mean-

“You alright,” and it’s the low voice that can so often lure him to sleep. When they’re traveling together, when all of them pile into a car for a long trip and he ends up sitting beside him because he whined about it, gave some shallow excuse like, _because I never get to sit with him_ , even if someone else – usually Dick – will counter back, _You do every time, idiot._

But he never minds. Roy, that is. Grumbles a low, _get in_ , nudges him into the car and sits next to him like it’s routine. Like it’s normal.

And maybe it would be – could be – if he was only a friend. If he didn’t drift into sleep, leaning against his shoulder and forgetting the world existed, forgetting anything was there except his breathing, the scent of his sleeve, his clothes and the low rumble of incomprehensible words when fragments of his conversations with others would sink into his subconscious.

“Yeah,” he’s saying, sitting upright and realizing with annoyance that he’s right where they left him; some hours ago. Glances out the window and winces, because the sun is _right_ there.

“Time to get up,” and Roy’s nudging him again, this time with a closed and slow fist pressing against his jaw but his hand lingers before he pulls it back, and he almost has to pretend it didn’t because he paused for a few seconds, why did he let it stay there for a few seconds.

Wally’s feigning a dramatic reaction but his silent cry of pain just turns into a yawn.

Roy shakes his head in dismay, for what it’s worth. “Come on.”

“Where’d everyone go,” Wally’s finally asking.

“Home,” Roy says.

“Already,” and he stares him down. 

But Roy doesn’t say anything, and why doesn’t he say anything. His lips are a tight line and Wally doesn’t know what that look means, has never seen that look before.

Roy sits down beside him, kneels onto the floor to match his eye level and Wally’s looking at him cautiously, unsure of what to expect. But the longer Roy holds his stare, the more his expression crumbles. He’s increasingly less serious, and his serious and tense stare of judgment and criticism soon devolves into a genuinely lopsided grin, and he’s reaching up behind Wally’s head and ruffling his hair with affection and saying, “You’re so dumb.”

“I… huh?” and why is his hand still there.

Roy rises – only slightly – and leans forward, tugging Wally downward to meet him halfway. That hand buried in his hair and his other pressed against his shoulder and Wally feels so fragile right now, small and out of sorts and uncertain and

Because you are you, and I am

Roy’s so close to him right now, why is he doing this.

I am me; I am small and slightly significant at best and

He’s tugged into a loose embrace and Roy’s kissing him – honest to God. “You’re so dumb,” he murmurs without pulling back. He doesn’t pull back.

you are a mountain.

“Why,” Wally says.

Roy frowns, but he doesn’t let that linger. “Why not.”

Wally’s still piecing that together, and everything it implies, and

Roy’s kissing him again, this time just below his eyes. “Why shouldn’t I.”

“Because I’m me,” Wally says.

A murmur against his skin, “Exactly.”


End file.
